In Love and Lost
by muentiger
Summary: My love, my paramour, my enemy. They say the eyes are the windows to a person's soul. What does he say when he looks into mine? Would he see me for who I am, or who I pretend to be?


**A/N: Hey there! Well, here it is. My first venture into the perilous land of Drarry fics. Alas, I am guilty of believing they were destined to be. The idea of two enemies falling in love with each other is too perfect to resist. Especially in the later books, when Draco tones down his arrogance, as sexy as it may have been. I plead the fifth. A slight warning to readers, this story contains sexual themes and mentions of rape. It's dark, but not explicit. This a birthday fic for SkyeElf, who is always there for me if I need her to be. And even when I don't think I do. She's my sister, my friend, my rock in a tempest and my fellow Slytherin. Happy 18th Birthday, sisi. Hope you all like the story.**

Night. When we are children, we are terrified of it, of its tenebrous reach. It invaded our eyes like an army, blinding us, rendering us incompetent. The night was a thief, robbing us of hope and joy. For me, the night held the decrepit façade of peace, so easily pierced by the sinister screams of my mother as Father's hands clouted her pale visage. I had always blamed myself. I still did. At Hogwarts, I had allowed myself the brief luxury of hope. That too, had been taken from me when he returned. The night now held the promise of destruction, of death, and the loss of all I held so foolishly dear. I had lost my dignity, my pride, my soul. Everything, save for what I loved most.

He lay beside me now, his breath steady as he slumbered, a tranquil smile across his lips. My love, my paramour, my enemy. On nights such as these we'd meet here, in the place we both called home, to remind ourselves that we were still alive. Within this room, our feigned animosity crumbed as our lips met urgently, hungrily. Hours later, he'd fall asleep after he was certain I had fallen into a state of dormancy as well. He knew not that I couldn't sleep, that my eyes never closed when I was with him.

_It had been an evening like any other. We had met in the room, not daring to waste any of our precious time together. As he grew lost in an aura of bliss, he muttered words of love and adoration, before collapsing at my side, his tangled raven locks plastered to his head. I fell asleep in his arms, and dreamt of naught but him, finally at peace with myself. When I awoke, I was not greeted by the sound of his soft snores or incoherent mumblings. Thinking him to be already awake, I turned slowly, discovering the sight of my love dead, his body slashed beyond recognition, and his bright eyes empty with death. A cold high laugh rang through the room, so familiar to my ears, but so alien and inhumane as well. A flash of green, and then nothing. Darkness, night. An endless abyss of fear._

I shook myself out of my thoughts, and rose gently from the bed, taking care to not jostle the plush mattress too much. This room provided us with whatever we needed, save for food or money. With a sigh drenched in fatigue, I hauled myself onto the small niche, letting my infamous locks cover my eyes as they stared out onto the grounds.

They say eyes are the windows into the soul. What would a stranger see in me, if he were to see me now? Would they see me for who I am, or who I pretend to be?

I was Draco Malfoy, the son of the great Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right-hand man. The youngest Death Eater in existence. Dumbledore was intended to fall at my hand. I believed in pureblood supremacy and the impurity of Muggle-borns. One day, I was to inherit the Malfoy fortune, and continue the lasting traditions of the Malfoy and Black family line by marrying someone I had never met before. In the meantime, I was to serve the Dark Lord dutifully, loyally, mindlessly. Like a marionette on a stage, whose strings were only created to pull and control. Draco Malfoy, the nemesis of Harry Potter, and the personification of all evil.

Was that what they all saw? Probably. I was cruel, sardonic and brutal to whoever I met.

But I had to be.

He understood that, despite his previous hatred for my very existence. I was the antithesis of everything he cared for, and yet he loved me.

Harry Potter loved me.

I buried my face in my hands, allowing a few tears to spill in silence as I recalled the nightmare. He knew the danger we faced, just by being in proximity of each other. I could not count the number of times I had tried to end this, whatever it was. Every time, he had just shaken his head, and held me close until I consented to remain with him. And then he would make love to me until I had forgotten all compunctions and concerns.

I would be gone the next morning.

In public, we acted as though nothing was happening between us. He would still be as stupidly chivalrous, and I would go back to being the same pretentious arse I had to be. We would exchange the same biting comments we used to, but his eyes glinted differently now. As though all he saw in that particular moment was me. And I'm sure my gaze was the same.

It had all begun after he had found me crying in the bathroom, crippled as a result of my failures. The Dark Lord had threatened me with my mother's death, and given me ten weeks to complete my assignment.

I had tried to curse him, but he had dodged it, leaving me to collapse on my knees, ready for death.

Instead, he knelt before me and wrapped his arms around me, letting me cry on his shoulder as he sat in silence, not knowing what to say.

He had refused to leave my side, even as Severus took me to the Hospital Wing for some needed rehabilitation.

That was how we began.

I chuckled softly into the palm of my hand as I remembered his nervous utterance of courtship, during which he had stumbled over every word, and blushed pink as the first rays of dawn. Finally, he had given up and just kissed me full on the mouth, not leaving me any room for breath to deny him.

Not that I would have.

"That's a new one," I heard a voice say, and I looked up, to see a grinning Harry leaning back on his elbows to look at me from the bed.

"Why are you grinning, Potter?" I snapped angrily, a shot of pain going through my arm as I uttered his name.

"You really should laugh more often, Ferret. It suits you," he pointed out, running a free hand through is already mussed hair. It was his odd habits that first enticed me to him, from mussing his perpetually dishevelled locks to his bumbling about when he had lost his glasses. Those moments when he forgot who he was destined to be, and just existed as who he was at that moment in time.

"I am not given much reason for exuberance, Scarhead," I muttered darkly, looking out the window in thought once more as he remained silent. I could not count how many times he had urged me to defect, to leave behind my past. But if I had no past, I had nothing. Nothing but a fleeting hope of a better tomorrow.

"Dray," he whispered, his breath on my ear tethering me to my sanity. I turned my head around and he placed his calloused hand against my face, feeling the drying tear tracks on my cheeks.

"You've been crying again," he commented, but I could feel the agony in his voice as he did so.

"Well spotted, Harry," I replied bitterly, trying to wrench myself from his grip. Whenever he breached the subject of my emotions, I fled, only to return when he called me. Every time, I promised myself I would not return. Every time I ran into his arms, remembering why I should have never left.

"Stop trying to run from me. I want to know what's been bothering you," he asked, the innocence and naïveté creeping back into his voice.

I remained silent. How was I to tell him that I, the person he claimed to love, had been assigned to kill the only parent he had ever known?

Slowly, his spare hand weaved into my left hand, turning it over to reveal the blackened skin that graced my forearm. For a second, I could sense his hesitation, but he leaned forward, placing a kiss upon the very top of my Dark Mark. The symbol of my impurity. And yet, he loved it as well. Equally, with every part of me.

"Why won't you tell me, Draco? I swear-" he began, but I cut him off with a glare, wrenching my arm out of his grip.

"Don't swear, Harry. You never know what they'll throw at you next," I snapped, my anger at the world making my voice colder than I had ever heard it before.

"No, I don't. But it kills me to see you like this," he whispered, as though afraid someone would hear us.

"Like what, Potter? Please to tell me how pathetic I must be right now," I spat, moving to gather the rest of my discarded clothes from the floor.

"Pathetic? What on earth gave you that impression?" he inquired, his voice rising in volume as he stood up, advancing towards me with a stoic determination in his stride.

"The fact that you treat me like a bloody porcelain doll, Harry! Like I'll crumble at any second. I'm damn stronger than that, Potter. I don't need someone to coddle me! Fat lot of good that's done for me!" I yelled at him, causing him to recoil slightly. "You were wondering why I was so depressed after Winter Break? I went home, and watched my mother be tortured by my Master in front of me, and given away to random men as though she were a kind of livestock. My father? He stood by and laughed. Even kicked her as she was dragged to the cellar. Did I collapse? I'm still here, aren't I?"

"No! You're not! Draco Malfoy may be in this room physically, but you're not here mentally. Emotionally. I want to know what happened to the self-entitled arse I met in Diagon Alley!" he shouted back, his eyes glinting as he advanced on me.

"He's dead, Potter! Along with any good I might have ever had in me," I screamed, my magic causing the flames behind me to burn more vigorously than they had before.

"Is that what you think? That you have no good left in you?" he whispered, the glint in his eye disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. But my anger still flared.

"Look at me, Harry. Look at THIS!" I cried, jutting my forearm to him. "How can I be anything but?"

"Because you come back," he mumbled, closing the gap between us to wrap his arms around my now shaking figure. The effect was instantaneous, my heart calming and my anger dissipating as I felt myself melt into his figure.

"What?" I groaned, looking at him as I used to look at my parents when they told me I couldn't have a dragon.

"You idiot. Whenever you leave, you come back. You never go to sleep when you come in here. And you won't tell me your assignment because you know it will hurt me. Draco, you are a good person. I've met my share, believe me," he told me, causing me to snicker silently at his reasoning. "But, even if you were evil, it doesn't matter to me. I love you, Dray. Nothing else matters to me but that."

I knew at that moment that I would never leave the man in front of me. I could not. As broken as he was, I needed him. As broken as I was, as flawed as my existence was, he loved me.

I would give my life to save him, to save _us. _Because, without him, I could not live. And he felt the same way.

But I couldn't lie to him any longer.

"Dumbledore," I whispered, and he pulled away suddenly, his eyes roaming over the door behind my back.

"You bloody ferret! I thought Dumbledore was watching us! Nearly gave me a heart attack," he laughed, wiping a stray bead of sweat from his forehead.

"Harry, stop. Dumbledore is my target," I admitted, the finality in my voice echoing in the chamber like the bang of a gavel. This was it.

Taking his silence as a sign of rejection, I nodded, taking a step towards him to place a kiss on his forehead.

"I am so sorry," I breathed, gathering my things from the floor and turning to leave.

"Where are you going?" Harry asked suddenly, his hand reaching out to stop me.

"I'm leaving. You won't see me again, I promise," I said silently, not daring to look him in the eye. I was crying, the salty tears of my last hope dripping across my cheeks.

"I don't want you to leave," he stated, his voice trembling in trepidation as though he could not believe his own sentiments.

"You don't?" I repeated, stunned by his reaction. I had expected anger, denial, hatred. Acceptance? I had not imagined that in a million years.

"I don't," he confirmed, pulling me into a strangled embrace. He wept on my shoulder, and I held him close to me, placing kisses on to his head of hair as he often did with mine.

"Never leave, Draco. I can't live without you anymore. S'matter of fact, my life began when I met you," he admitted tearily, clinging to my shoulders for dear life.

"You don't hate me?" I inquired, and he shook his head into my chest. My heart leapt with joy, threatening to tear my body into shreds as it beat with the force of a gale-force wind.

Pulling his face to meet mine, I smiled widely, letting my forgotten clothes fall to the floor. I kissed him with the fervour of a dying man, my teeth clashing against his noisily.

"I love you," I repeated over and over again, covering every inch of his face with fervent kisses. "Merlin, I love you so bloody much. I'll stay! I'm yours!" I practically yelled, and he smirked at me cheekily.

"Took you long enough," he rolled his eyes and pulled me onto the bed, claiming me as his own again.

I was in love with Harry Potter. My love, my paramour, my enemy.

My life.

**A/N: How was it? This idea just popped into my head, developing from a request I had received. Again, this is my first venture into Drarryland. I have to say, I loved writing this, as much of a challenge as it was. Please drop me a line, and leave a flaming or hugging review for this. I greatly appreciate all feedback, positive or not. Virtual popcorn to all!**


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